


In Her Bedroom, Nightfall

by honeyedlion



Series: Stocking!verse [4]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Gender Issues, Genderfluid, Genderfluid Character, Heavy Pacing, It's not in the story it's just something I believe, M/M, Navel-Gazing, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:50:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyedlion/pseuds/honeyedlion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gauze can be lifted from more than a wound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Her Bedroom, Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> This was a slower piece, I think because it was from Ciel. Thanks to FallenAngel1129 for wanting to read this, haha, because otherwise I would have left it in a notebook for another half a year. Still managed to be sixteen days late though. Oops.

               Ciel stood in front of his wardrobe, toes curling protectively together to ward off the chill from the wooden floor. Night had already fallen, but it was still hours from the Viscount’s party. Around him, the room lay in shambles, a mess of hastily discarded clothing. Sebastian was off ushering Lizzie from the estate, her unexpected visit having stirred the house like a kicked anthill.

                His coat and shirt were draped across his bed, his shorts crumpled on the floor where he’d stepped out of them. Lizzie’s visit had been uncomfortable, a reminder of the world outside the house of pretty cards he’d built for himself. Ciel wrapped thin arms around himself, as though keeping himself from shaking apart. In front of him stood the armoire that contained the very sin that could have caused his ruination that afternoon.

                And still he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

                He reached forward, almost hesitantly, and his fingers stroked softly over gathered chiffon, the full belled bottom of an evening gown. He felt cold, and for the first time he wondered if it wasn’t the room, but something deeper.

                When he married Lizzie, where would this armoire go?

                For a long time he had stored his ‘hobby’ among his other clothes. It was only the week before last that he’d ordered the purchase of this armoire, and watched from his bed as Sebastian sorted through his gowns, throwing out things from last season, dresses he’d already grown too tall for. He had drunk tea and nibbled a slice of tart and when he was done Sebastian had pushed him down among the downy rolls of cotton and eiderdown, had fucked into him, slow and aching. He’d pushed into Ciel again and again, until he was hoarse, until he was dizzy with it.

                Ciel flushed at the memory, and turned from the armoire to pull open his dresser, musing absently over the stockings within. He chose black, like the seal under his butler’s glove and sat on the edge of his bed to slide them on. There was a wriggling pushing motion one had to master to put on silk stockings. They didn’t wrinkle, not truly, but Ciel had found that scrunching them made the fabric sit awkwardly, twisting the delicately stitched line down the back. He wondered idly if this was what Lizzie did, sat hunched on her bed, wriggling her foot that last inch into her stockings.

                He stood abruptly, trying to banish the thought, and opened a different drawer, pulling out a black lace garter, its delicate straps hanging limply. The lace was, of course, patterned in roses. He didn’t have time for these thoughts. Lizzie’s visit had already set them behind schedule.

                Ciel slipped into it nimbly, and was beginning to fumble with the straps when he heard the door open behind him, couldn’t stop the way he startled like a guilty maid. He knew it was Sebastian, though how he knew he wasn’t sure. A smell in the air, a lack of heat in the room.

                Maybe it was just the way any small animal could sense a predator.

                Ciel turned and looked at him, hands falling from the garter slowly. He could smell the floral perfume Lizzie always wore, and it made him shiver. A clean, cutting scent.

                “That took long enough.” Ciel scowled, sitting back down on the bed, and swinging his feet a little. Sebastian was already walking toward him, dropping onto one knee, hands reaching. The touch of gloves along his inner thigh made Ciel shudder, despite the perfunctory air. Sebastian smiled at him empty and beautiful, while those careful fingers slid delicate ribbon through tiny metal buckles, tightening it to fit him perfectly.

                Sometimes Ciel thought Sebastian ate souls to hide his lack.

                Ciel stood as Sebastian finished, forcing his gloved hands to slide to the side. For a brief moment he felt the heated tease of Sebastian’s breath on his stomach, and then he stepped past, his stocking’d feet sliding a little on the wooden floor.

                That too had taken adjustment. Silk was a sullen creature; needing constant attention and he’d had to relearn all his movements, like a baby. Gowns sat restlessly in chairs, shoes slid themselves from his feet, and the soft maddening rustle had driven him to distraction at first.

                He slid open a different drawer, the dry creak of wood on wood, and pulled ruffled black silk out of the drawer. The silk here was less slippery, having been tailored to fit, and sat tightly on his hips.

                Here was something he knew Lizzie was not accustomed to. Rather like the wiggle for the stocking, silk underwear must be adjusted carefully. Silk rode and clung, and without the right fit it made for a miserable night. That and the cost made this an item more often worn by French widows, than delicate English debutantes like Elizabeth.

                English Earls didn’t even make the list.

                When he turned back to face him, Sebastian was already holding out a corset, strings swinging gently where they hung down the back. Ciel preferred half corsets, or waist cinchers, but if Sebastian had done the choosing purposely, Ciel didn’t mind pandering to his butler’s whim. He stepped forward, hands in the air, and Sebastian pulled the loose contraption over his head, tugging it into place, capable fingers aligning it so it wouldn’t pinch.

                Lizzie always wore her corsets loose, though he suspected she loosened them herself. He would sometimes see the sharp press of the structure under the fluid fabric of her gown, like the breast bone of a bird.

                He turned silently, bracing his arms around the bedpost as the tugging began. Sebastian worked methodically from the top, tugging then loosening, tugging then loosening, keeping the silk cording carefully even on both sides. He suspected Sebastian found the act as erotic as he did, though he hadn’t made mention of it. The rocking motion had become almost soothing by now though, a ritual and Ciel breathed carefully to the rhythm of it. He imagined watching Lizzie sit on this bed, hair undone, white stockings scrunched, and corset hanging loosely from her figure with strings a tangled web down her back. He supposed it wasn’t unappealing to him.

                “Breathe in.” Sebastian murmured, voice too close to his ear, and Ciel breathed deeply, holding the air inside as Sebastian made the final ties, each sharp yank jerking him back, dragging his silk covered feet helplessly across the floor.

                A soft rustle, and then he could feel the tips of those gloves tracing his spine. Bent as he was, Sebastian’s hands were able to brush against a sliver of exposed skin, ghosting over the small of his back. Ciel arched into the touch almost unconsciously, and heard Sebastian make a small amused sound.

                At least Ciel, knowing Sebastian, could hear the amusement. To most, his butler merely sounded hungry.

                Sebastian stepped away, the firm press of his leather shoes so familiar on the wooden floor, a sound he had heard a dozen times, and only that day. Terrifying to think it had only been four years since their pact. Only four years since Sebastian had stepped into his home and his life as though molded for it.

                Ciel turned to sit again on the bed. Four years was a marriage with two children. Would one day Lizzie be so familiar? It hurt to think on. Sebastian still carried the acrid smell of her perfume, so sharp in the air around him. It was hard to imagine Lizzie’s clothes there instead of his own. To think of her smiling at him from across his desk while he worked on accounts late into the evening.

                When he looked up Sebastian was standing before his armoire, the doors thrown open.

                “The burgundy silk, with the black striping.” Ciel said finally, answering the unasked question and Sebastian nodded separating it easily from the riotous mass of fabric and color that spilled from the confining wood.

                It was a dirty little dress, Ciel knew, with a neckline too low, and colors a bit too rich. Nothing he would wear out to tea. Normally he preferred cooler colors, soothing things. But he was in a black mood tonight, and this was the dress he wanted.

                This was a dress that pure virginal Lizzie would never dream of owning. Not that Francis would allow it, even if she dared.

                But there is no bossy matron here to stop him, and so he stands, letting Sebastian do up the tiny rows of buttons along his back, binding him into a darker vision, something rather more tempting than the ingénue he normally played.

                Of course normally Ciel would have declined this invitation.

                He had no love for the Viscount, and no love for his parties. They were dark affairs, with laughable people, who drank too much wine, and then went to fuck in the back room. It was sordid, and beneath him. He’d rather do his drinking and fucking in the comfort of his own home, where he could make Sebastian fetch him something sweet after the affair.

                However, at this party there might be a lead, a clue and oh how Ciel should have known that the same disgusting creatures who had trapped him, would be the sort to enjoy Druitt’s company, his bad wine, and gauche decor.

                At Sebastian’s gesture, Ciel moved to the vanity table, perching carefully on the padded seat. His mask was almost done now. He could feel himself settling away, folding into something softer and sweeter, tipped in poison. A Mobius strip of personality, he slid fluidly from one to the next.

                Sebastian’s clever hands, ungloved so as not to stain the white cloth, were dusting his face gently.  A light layer of powder to set his skin, though Ciel didn’t truly need it. He didn’t freckle like Nina, or shine like Ran Mao. But he liked the smell of it, and the soft brush of it against his face. It reminded him of the soft press of his mother.

                At least, he thought it did. It had been so long. So long, and nothing to show for it, but a tattered soul, a dark reputation and this creature before him, gently sorting powders on his lacquered table.

                Next the kohl to rim his eyes, black and heavy. The weight of his eyelids had so unsettled him the first time; he had blinked again and again. He still marveled at how it turned his wide gaze into a half-lidded stare.

                Sebastian curled his eyelashes, and Ciel wondered if every girl held their mouth parted lips rounded as though for another purpose entirely.

                Lipstick and Ciel wanted red. Rich, dark red. It made his mouth look like a bruise on his face, like a wet fresh cherry. He smiled at his reflection, a temptress’ smirk.

                He’d learned that from Madam Red.

                Behind him in the mirror Sebastian stood, looking at him patiently, and Ciel realized with a start that he was awaiting orders.

                “Leave it straight for tonight, Sebastian. I just need my mask.”

                A real mask, this time. They were required at the Viscount’s party. Sebastian walked away, and Ciel watched himself in the mirror, the line of his neck, and the dim sparkle of his earbobs. He reached for his jewelry box, and opened it, searching, searching. His fingers finally slid across them, familiar enough to be known by feel alone. Heavy red drops of ruby, and he was sliding them into his ears instead when Sebastian returned, black silk mask held in his hand.

                Lizzie would never a life like this. Oh, she may live, but she wouldn’t survive. She certainly wouldn’t thrive on it.

                “I’m prettier than Lizzie.” Ciel murmured, testing the words as he let them go, feeling their shape for truth.

                “Lady Elizabeth is a natural beauty.” Sebastian said his voice low and intimate. He settled the silk over Ciel’s face, cool and sweet smelling. “You invented this beauty. Lizzie was born with hers.”

                Ciel frowned sharply, watching the ripe shape of his mouth turn downward, what would normally be a ferocious scowl transformed into a look of kittenish displeasure.

                “That being said,” Sebastian continued, and Ciel could feel his hands tying the mask gently into place, careful not to disturb the smooth fall of his hair. “You far outshine her, even when you tell the truth.”

                Ciel blinked. His throat felt thick, and his words came out strangely deep for the picture painted in his mirror. He felt a little like he was swallowing around some heavy emotion, but his face was cool and calm.

                “Thank you, Sebastian. Now go ready the carriage.”

                Sebastian nodded, and Ciel sat and listened to the soft tap of his shoes fading as he left the room, before he let himself smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Lounge in [luxury](http://honeyedlion.tumblr.com/). Or, submit a request.


End file.
